


Teenage Dream

by ljummen (Vendelin)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Bartender Geno, Falling In Love, Hockey Player Sid, M/M, Summer Vacation, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 04:51:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15574188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vendelin/pseuds/ljummen
Summary: When Sid goes to Cyprus the summer of his draft, he meets Evgeni, who makes him sweet drinks and takes Sid's mind off of the pressure of saving an entire franchise.





	Teenage Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was first posted on [tumblr.](http://ljummen.tumblr.com/post/176168781414/teenage-dream) It was inspired by the picture featured below and written for a picture challenge.

Sid is on a high after the draft.  _Pittsburgh Penguins_. He’s going to play with  _Mario Lemieux_. It’s all good until it begins to dawn on him, the pressure that comes with this. Media is already talking about him saving a franchise, despite being one person. An eighteen-year-old at that. So he increases the hours he spends in the gym and at the rink, and decreases his social time and sleep.

“You need to get some space,” his mom says over breakfast a week later.

“I can’t,” Sid protests. “I need to work out.”

“You’re going.”

So that’s how he ends up alone on a flight to Cyprus. Apparently sun and meeting “other people his age” will be good for him. His mom doesn’t understand that none of that will help him save a franchise.

The weather is sweltering when he gets there, despite being in the middle of the night. It’s closer to forty degrees than thirty, and Sid usually finds thirty unbearable. He’s crammed into a bus with a bunch of other people, and trusts the driver when he’s told that this is the stop for his hotel.

It’s dark out, but he can still make out the building made out of white stone and an entrance entirely made from glass. The name of the hotel shines brightly in large, back-lit letters above the revolving doors. There’s a path of pale stone leading up to them and palm trees in neat rows.

There are people in line before him, and he lets a mother and her daughter skip past him too when she asks in broken English. His entire body aches just from standing after being in a cramped plane for so long, but he’s here and the wait for a bed is significantly shorter than the time he’s already spent travelling. He’ll deal.

It’s a comparatively fast procedure to hand over his passport, get a key to his room and a letter, as well as a sandwich and a bottle of water.

“You can come by tomorrow morning and pick up your passport again, sir,” the receptionist tells him. “The wifi password is in your welcome letter. Have a good first night.”

Sid’s room is big enough for a queen bed, a desk, TV and a decent-sized bathroom. The stone floor is cool under his feet, when he can finally step out of his sneakers, and the AC is already running. As the sweat cools on his back, he shivers and shrugs out of his backpack. This is heaven.

He falls asleep after a quick shower.

The first day starts out with breakfast and a good book at the terrace facing the ocean. Then he hits the hotel gym and kills another couple of hours, before he needs to find the restaurant, show them his wristband and grab more food.

Compared to being home, there’s no time consumed by going between his house and the gym. There’s no rink for him here. So after an after-lunch nap, he’s left with nothing else to do than take his book with him to the pool.

He doesn’t plan on staying there—the ocean is something else completely, especially here where the water is turquoise and so incredibly clear—but then he spots the bartender.

He’s tall, with brown hair that’s a little messy in the back, like maybe he’s rubbed his hand over it, and he’s laughing—a full body laugh—with the guy he’s working with. It’s different here. Sid doesn’t have to pretend. No one knows who he is, and no one’s seen the draft. He can...he can  _look_ if he wants to.

So instead of taking his book with him to the beach, he climbs one of the high stools at the pool bar. This is what confident, grown-ups do, right? He fiddles with the bent corner of his book for a second. Now what? They haven’t noticed him yet, so he can still escape if he wants to. He can—

“You want something to drink?”

Looking up, Sid stares right into the face of the guy who’s the sole reason he’s on this stool to begin with. He’s even better looking up close like this, with sleepy eyes and a smile on his mouth. He’s got a great mouth.

“Uh,” Sid says. Is there are menu here somewhere? Looking around, he tries to find some chalkboard or  _anything_ that’ll tell him what he can order. Nothing. “Can you, um, recommend something?”

The guy smiles and nods. “You like with alcohol or no?”

“Without, please.”

“I make for you.”

Sid watches as the guy exchanges a few words with his colleague, who looks over at Sid and then says something back. Then, the guy picks out the tallest glass available and Sid watches shamelessly—there’s nothing wrong with wanting to know what he’s about to drink!—as he prepares something that seems to include at least three different kinds of juice, and pineapple slices.

“I make you sweet drink,” the guy says when he plops a small umbrella into it and slides it over.

It’s red at the bottom of the glass, and then slowly fades into yellow, topped off with ice cubes and the pineapples slices, as well as the pink umbrella.

Sid flushes. “Thank you. It’s really pretty.”

“Like you,” the guy says and Sid can feel his face take the same shade of red as the juice at the bottom.

“Uh,” is all he manages, until a lady calls for the bartender’s,  _his_ bartender’s, attention. If he stays here, maybe he can talk to the guy some more, but there are a lot of people around and maybe it’ll make things weird. He probably says the same thing to every tourist that comes into town.

But there’s nothing wrong with looking, Sid figures, so he picks a lounger with care. It’s close to the pool, but also within good distance of the pool bar. He takes his shirt off and resists the urge to see if the guy is watching him as he rubs another layer of sunscreen on his shoulders and chest. He probably isn’t. There are a lot of people here whose swimwear consists of decidedly less fabric than his.

So he sips his drink (which is delicious and sweet) and somehow manages to get lost in his book,  _finally_.

“Think should turn,” someone says and Sid jerks, almost dropping the book. There’s the guy from the bar again.

“What?” Sid asks, still mentally in the historical fiction he’s reading.

“Think maybe you turn over? Get even tan.”

An even tan? Looking down, Sid realizes that he’s been on his back on the chair, probably for a while now. He’s shiny with sweat and sunscreen, and maybe a little tender too.

“I should probably stick to the shade for a bit,” he says with a grimace. Great. Now he comes off as the  _worst_ tourist of them all, on top of everything else.

The guy nods, and Sid expects him to leave, but instead he steps over Sid’s lounger and takes to fold up the beach umbrella.

“You don’t have to do that,” Sid hurries. He’s not that helpless.

“Is fine, happy to help.” The guy smiles and ducks awkwardly to avoid getting the umbrella in his face. “You like drink?”

“Yes.” Sid nods and, shit, his brain needs to start working soon. “It was really good.”

“Glad to hear.” The guy looks at him for a while, and then points at the empty lounger next to Sid’s. “Where is friends?”

“No, I’m here alone,” Sid explains. “My mom figured I needed a vacation. So...I’m just...reading a book.”

The guy looks at him for a while, head cocked to the side. “I’m be new friend.”

Mouth dry, Sid tries not to stare at the long lines of his body. He’s wearing the hotel uniform, with beige shorts and blue polo shirt. Maybe he’s been working here for a while, because he’s got a nice tan.

“I’d like that,” he manages finally.

“I’m Evgeni,” Evgeni says and offers his hand. “What your name?”

“Sid.” And for once, Sid’s hand is small in someone else’s.

* * *

The following morning, Sid works out before breakfast and eats at the terrace again. He looks around for Evgeni, but he has no clue how working at a hotel like this works. Is he always at the bar? Does he do different tasks every day?

But when he picks the same lounger as yesterday, folding up the beach umbrella right away—his skin is already pink from yesterday. The pool bar isn’t open yet, so he pulls on his cap and picks up his book. This is nice too.

“Sid!”

Blinking up from the pages, Sid spots Evgeni at the foot of his lounger.

“Hi,” he says, his body going hot all over, and suddenly he wishes that he still had his shirt on.

“Little bit pink,” Evgeni says and taps his own nose.

“I know.” Sid resists the urge to hide his face behind his book. “I’m staying in the shade today.”

Evgeni shrugs and grins. “Is cute.”

And what the hell does he say to that?  _Thanks?_ Thankfully, he’s saved by Evgeni’s colleague who calls for him from the bar.

“Have to go.” Evgeni stays where he is, though. “I make new drink today for you, yes?”

“Sure.” Sid scratches his chest and regrets it immediately. He’s definitely staying out of the sun today. “I’ll, uh, I’ll come up in a while?”

“Yes.” Evgeni smiles and starts to head back to the bar, but then he pauses again. “Maybe many time? I know lots different drinks.”

So Sid spends the day alternating between reading on his lounger and balancing on the stools by the bar. He stays, stealing way too much of Evgeni’s time and attention, but makes sure to leave when his colleague stops looking smug and starts getting frustrated by having to handle all the orders by himself.

* * *

Two days later, Evgeni sits down by the foot of Sid’s lounger. The pool area is almost empty, but Sid hasn’t been able to tear himself away for dinner yet.

“You eat?” Evgeni asks and squeezes Sid’s calf.

Suppressing a shiver, Sid shakes his head. “No.”

“Maybe I show you good place?”

God, is Evgeni asking him out for dinner? “Um, yeah, sure.”

And Evgeni  _beams_ , like Sid has just agreed to give him the sun. “Okay, meet outside front doors in hour?”

Nodding, Sid grabs his books and towel, but then stops. “What am I supposed to wear?”

With a shrug, Evgeni sticks his tongue out between his teeth and grins. “Not matter. Look cute.”

“Fuck you,” Sid says, but his giggle probably gives him away.

So he spends the better part of the hour in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to fix his hair and then giving up, leaving it a curly mess. He picks a polo shirt and a nicer pair of shorts. It’s too hot for anything else.

He’s running a few minutes late, when he rushes through the lobby and swears under his breath over the slowness of the revolving doors. But there, on the other side, is Evgeni. He sits on the low stone wall next to a palm tree, and his hair is damp, so maybe he showered too.

He’s wearing a t-shirt with a shiny silver pattern and a distressed looking pair of jeans shorts. Sid should hate everything about it, but he can’t. Instead he thinks he might be overflowing from the inside out.

“Hi,” he says and his heart does a double take when Evgeni looks up, and his frown smooths out into a brilliant smile.

“Sid.”

“Sorry I’m late.” Sid swallows. He’s never been on a date before. If this even is a date. “I...I wasn’t sure what to wear.”

“Look perfect,” Evgeni tells him and gets up, stepping closer. He’s so overwhelmingly tall like this. “Come, I show you best place. Not so much tourist.”

When Evgeni puts an arm over his shoulders, Sid really wants to blame the heat, but that would be a lie. Instead he allows himself to walk a little closer. No one recognizes him here. He doesn’t have to think twice before he talks. So after walking down a narrow cobblestone street, and then taking left to another, leaving all the tourist shops behind, he wipes his palm on his shorts and puts his arm around Evgeni’s waist.

“So glad you come out with me,” Evgeni says and squeezes his shoulder. “I’m most lucky.”

And Sid is burning up.

The restaurant is a small, seaside place with fresh caught fish and lots of fruit. Sid eats more than maybe he should, but fish is healthy and so is fruit. Either way, there’s Evgeni on the other side of the table, smiling at him like he’s the best thing that’s ever walked the earth.

He’s only half-way through his week, but at the same time, it feels like he’s spent an eternity on a rickety bar stool to talk to Evgeni during the days, tasting his increasingly complicated drinks (they’re still good though) and pretending not to stare longingly from his lounger.

So when Evgeni stops him outside the restaurant several hours later, and strokes Sid’s cheek with his thumb, it doesn’t seem rushed at all.

“Please walk on beach with me?” Evgeni asks, his hand still on Sid’s cheek as he nods his yes.

It’s mostly abandoned at this hour, but the sound of the soft waves rolling in and the smell of salt water is better than anything Sid could hope for. He puts his arm around Evgeni’s waist again, and smiles when a familiar weight settles across his shoulders.

“I never go on romantic beach walk before,” Evgeni tells him.

“Me neither.” Sid swallows and something hot settles low in his belly.

“I see you first day, and I’m think I have to talk, know you better. Cutest I’m ever see. Little bit red from sun, little bit red from shy.” Evgeni laughs down at him when Sid tries to shove him, hoping to cover up his embarrassment.

“Do you always work here?” Sid asks.

“No, is second summer. I live in Russia, go for school there, but I come here for summer. Is good job, you know? Get sun and pay.”

Sid laughs. “That’s a great combination.”

“Also lot of Russian tourist so is good I’m know language.”

Fuck, but Russia is so far away from Pittsburgh.

“I’m moving to the USA after this summer,” Sid confesses.

“Is for school?” Evgeni asks.

“More like work.”

Later, they sit in the sand for a while in silence, but Sid can feel Evgeni’s breath against his cheek as they move in close together.

“I kiss you?” Evgeni asks suddenly and Sid chokes on nothing, his heart kick-starting in his chest.

“Yes,” he manages finally. “Please.”

And maybe it’s the best first kiss anyone could ever get. On a Mediterranean beach, under a star scattered sky, with a guy that makes Sid feel too big for his skin every time they’re sharing breathing space.

It’s slow, and so gentle. And Sid thinks they might keep kissing for the better part of an hour, because his lips are sore when Evgeni finally gets up, and then offers him a hand to pull him to his feet, and then takes him back to the hotel.

“Do you live here too?” Sid asks outside the front doors.

“No, I share little place with friend. Sasha, guy who work with me in bar. He also Russian.”

Just as Sid is about to invite Evgeni up to his room, he gets another kiss and a smile that makes his entire body melt. “Sleep good.”

“Wait,” Sid manages as Evgeni turns around. “Can I see you tomorrow night?”

“Work late.” Evgeni pulls a face. “Eleven. For rest of week.”

Sid kisses him once more, before heading up to his room. He can’t sleep, because he’s smiling at the ceiling.

* * *

“You call me Zhenya,” Evgeni tells him the second-to-last day of Sid’s stay. “Is for people I keep close, yes?”

It takes five tries before Sid can say it right, and then Zhenya has to step back to work. That day, he lingers by the bar as the day comes to its end. Zhenya is busy making drinks for a couple of ladies with particular taste, but Sid has picked his spot strategically just where the bar keeps its booze for mixing the drinks.

“Sorry for so busy,” Zhenya says and sighs. “Everyone want drink tonight.”

“Don’t apologize.” Sid’s palms are sweaty as he slides over the second, never-used keycard to his room. “I’m in 509. Come by when you’re off?”

He doesn’t mean to put the last bit as a question. He freaking  _practiced_ this in front of the mirror this morning. So when Zhenya freezes, looking up at him with wide eyes, Sid’s entire body goes red and hot, and he bolts to the restaurant to get dinner before Zhenya has a chance to reply.

He’s prepared, having gone through a seriously embarrassing visit to the drug store to get what he needs and now he’s sitting on his bed, staring at whatever’s on the TV without taking in any of it. It’s ten past eleven and what if Zhenya doesn’t show up?

Fuck, what if he  _does_?

He jumps when there’s a faint knock on his door, and then the familiar click of it unlocking. And there’s Zhenya, a little out of breath, hair wet like he’s just showered. Sid gets up, trembling slightly, and stretches up on his toes, kissing Zhenya for a long while. Then he locks the door, and his worries disappear.

* * *

“Can’t come to airport,” Zhenya says the following morning. Sid’s flight is leaving at nine tonight, and Zhenya’s shift isn’t over until eleven. And while Sid knew this, it doesn’t stop him from wishing it could be different.

“I know, it’s okay.”

“I give you number and email. We skype, text, yes?”

Swallowing down the heavy lump in his throat, Sid nods. “Yeah.”

Zhenya knocks him teasingly, trying to cheer him up. “Still have time for me in America?”

“Yeah, about that.” Sid swallows and takes a deep breath. “My work there? It’s...I play hockey. I’m going to play in the NHL.”

There’s a long stretch of silence when Sid doesn’t dare to look at him, but holds his breath until he gets dizzy.

Then, finally: “Still have time for me in NHL?”

And Sid lets out a laugh, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“Definitely.”

* * *

He aches as he waits in the check-in line at the airport. He’s got Zhenya’s number and email both in his phone, but also sent in an email to himself, as well as giving Zhenya his own contact information. There’s no way he’s turning this into a romance movie with an unhappy ending, where his phone dies and he suddenly can’t get a hold of the one person that gives his heart growing pains.

They kissed for a solid ten minutes in the supply room to the pool bar, and Zhenya had rushed out of there when Sid had whispered his goodbye. He’s not angry, because he saw the tears on Zhenya’s face, and if he hadn’t rushed out of there first, Sid probably would have.

“Sid!”

Blinking back to reality, Sid looks around. There can’t be that many people around here named Sid.

Further away, a head taller than the rest of the crowd, is Zhenya. He smiles, albeit tentative, when their eyes meet. And Sid rips open.

He leaves the line—there’s still time—and lets Zhenya pull him in for a hard kiss.

“I thought you were working until eleven.”

“Sasha cover for me,” Zhenya mumbles against his lips. “Can’t let leave without proper goodbye. Sorry for run out before.”

“It’s okay,” Sid says, his voice as soft as his heart. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

Zhenya kisses him again. “Skype me when you home. I answer, even if I’m work. Then I come see you in America, yes? Watch you play.”

Sid nods, eyes hot. “I’d love that.”

“I’m make sure you not forget about me when you best player in the world.”

* * *

When Sid hoists the cup over his head for the first time a few years later, Zhenya is there by his side, with a ring on his finger and a hyphenated last name.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://ljummen.tumblr.com)!


End file.
